


Hear, see, repeat

by Poljupci



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Domestic Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 13:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poljupci/pseuds/Poljupci
Summary: It was a never-ending series of cycles which always followed the same pattern: Professor Potter’s behaviour would change and his ramblings about his personal life became more staged. Then he would start talking about the new thing that occupied every moment of his thinking, each time giving more and more detail until finally some sort of physical proof would appear in his classroom and the cycle would end.Or: No one loves gossip more than Hogwarts students.Or: How Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter became local couple goals.





	1. Chapter 1

By the time it happened, every single student in Hogwarts was already sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting, dropping in anticipation.

It was a never-ending series of cycles which always followed the same pattern: Professor Potter’s behaviour would change and his ramblings about his personal life became more staged. Then he would start talking about the new thing that occupied every moment of his thinking, each time giving more and more detail until finally some sort of physical proof would appear in his classroom and the cycle would end.

It all began some ten years ago, not long after a new Defence professor came to work in their lovely school. The chemistry between Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy was striking and it spread through school in waves, so really, no one was surprised when one third-year found them snogging in Potter’s backroom while they came to serve their detention.

That was the beginning of the first cycle – or rather, the beginning was the day after when one sixth year Ravenclaw dared to ask why Potter was wearing a turtle neck instead of his usual, casual, muggle tees. Little did she know that he would go into a half an hour rant about how blind he’d been and how freeing it was to finally admit his feelings and how now he feels like a teen again but so much better. It went on and on and on, every single one of the kids waiting for him to mutter Malfoy’s name but he never did.

That first cycle was about revealing Potter’s boyfriend’s identity. It ended precisely two years seven months, one week and three days after the pair was caught snogging, on a fine Friday afternoon, with Professor Malfoy casually dropping by at the end of Potter’s last lecture for the day to ask if he was interested in going out for dinner that day.

Potter positively beamed excused the class early just so he could hurry towards his ‘adorable, kind, wonderful, dazzling’ boyfriend and kiss him on the lips not caring that none of the students have left the classroom and were then either squealing in excitement, passing galleons around with sighs and groans, or pretending to puke their soul out in a way not so dissimilar to the way children often do when their parents kiss in their presence.

Between that cycle and the next, a few things happened.

First, students learned to ignore Prof Malfoy’s visits which happened frequently and always resulted in Prof Potter becoming too flustered and lovesick to teach and then dismissing the class early. Second, most of the student body agreed that each week new students would be assigned with the uncomfortable task of politely asking Prof Potter to shut up about his boyfriend and continue on with his lesson because if he didn’t their education would be at risk.

Third, Prof Potter thought himself how to bake which wasn’t evident from his ramblings at the beginning of each lesson but rather by the distinctly sweet smell that always twirled through the air of the Potions classroom after the lunch break. And fourth, Prof Potter stopped rambling about his boyfriend but he did start rambling about his husband about the same time a simple, white gold band appeared on his ring finger.

The second cycle began unexpectedly when Prof Potter came to class more frustrated than any of his students had ever seen him.

“Take out a piece of parchment,” he’d said quickly and moved towards the board which he’d never used in his lessons before. He wrote three words: dog, cat, neither. “You have five minutes to pick one. Write your answer and pass the folded parchment towards the front of the classroom.” When every answer was stored securely in one of the empty drawers of his desk, he started the lesson without a word of Prof Malfoy or his feelings or a magnificent chocolate cake he’d made two days ago. The word of this strange happening spread like wildfire and when the class after got the same treatment, the whole student body was certain – the new cycle began.

This one was about pets and responsibility and babysitting the small Bichon Frise named Albus that became a part of the Potter-Malfoy family about two weeks after the whole ‘voting for your new pet’ charade.

From there on, the only thing that was left to do, and the only thing that the students knew would end the cycle was Albus’ appearance in the classroom.

Usually, the dog would patiently wait for either Potter or Draco in their shared flat in Hogsmeade or from time to time in one of their backrooms but it was in the middle of April that Prof Potter was late to class and appeared dishevelled and tired with the small, cotton-ball-like dog in his hands.

“If you don’t tell Draco that he’s here, I’ll give you all an O on your next homework,” he promised, panting and laid the dog to sit on his desk. Albus was surprisingly well behaved but grew bored rather quickly. It was one of his students’ ideas to pass Albus around the classroom so he could get some cuddles and belly-rubs and stay calm while the professor continued on with the lecture.

With bags under his eyes, and slumped shoulders, Prof Potter agreed and that was the end of the second cycle.

And then it was nothing for a while. A year or two passed and it was nearing year three, the original witnesses to the favourite domestic pair in Hogwarts long gone. The tale of the cycles moved down from ear to ear, each new student learning the tale as if it was a legend. Everyone had to be careful; everyone had to stay vigilant because they never knew when a new cycle might begin.

Around the nine-year anniversary of the first cycle, Prof Potter began coming to class obviously exhausted, with headaches he never stopped complaining about, and impossibly huge cups of coffee which no one doubted were milk-less and as strong as they got. His morning ramblings were cut short and his lessons turned into duelling classes because he couldn’t bring himself to have seven hours of talking every day. The students took pity on him and kept the noises to a minimum as the practised their hexes and charms on each other while Potter dozed off in his chair.

For a while, they were uncertain if the new cycle had truly begun because unlike all the previous times, there were no talk and murmurs and almost begging for help coming from the professor. They knew nothing but that Potter was incredibly sleep deprived and by the state of his grumpiness they were fairly certain it wasn’t because he and Prof Malfoy decided to become more adventurous in bed.

Maybe two weeks after this state had become the norm for Potter, the Prefects gathered in the Room of Requirement to analyse the current situation. After hours of talk and collecting gossip they had four possible theories:

1.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter fell out and were on very bad terms so Prof Potter was sleeping on the couch.

2.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter decided that their 20s hadn’t been adventurous enough and decided to join a club of thirty-something-year-olds who hit the clubs every evening leaving Prof Potter hangover and tired in the morning.

3.) Prof Potter inherited Odgen’s firewhiskey company and became an alcoholic due to the lack of excitement in his private and professional life.

4.) Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter adopted a child and were now tortured by the very thing that is a baby and the inconsistent (read: non-existent) sleeping schedule that came with being a parent.

All of these had their flaws: from the undeniably smitten looks that Prof Malfoy and Prof Potter still shared during meals in the great hall, to the disdain that both of them had for clubbing. The theory that was least likely to be true, however, was certainly the last one and it was one simple fact that made everyone agree: if Prof Potter had a child under his care, he would never, ever, not in a thousand years, be able to stop talking about them.

It’s easy to imagine the shared shock that spread through Hogwarts when a joint class of Slytherin and Ravenclaw third years came out of Prof Potter’s classroom with their jaws still on the floor and their eyes as wide and saucers.

The ending of the third cycled came down like this...

Prof Potter was surprisingly cheerful, rambling on and on about all the creatures he had to fight in the lake during his attempt at the Triwizard Tournament as if his overblown tales were supposed to be a good introduction to their lesson on grindylows. His words were interrupted by the appearance of a big glowing figure that has become a welcome guest in the Defence classroom.

Prof Malfoy’s thestral spoke in an urgent but sweet voice which was only reserved for his husband. “Hey love, could I bring Lizzy to you? I know you’re in class but mother’s feeling a bit confused and they want me to come to see her... I won’t be gone longer than an hour...”

Prof Potter’s face softened at the sound of his lover and with a glance to the confused students he picked up his wand. “Sure, baby, bring her in,” he whispered and his famous stag disappeared through the wall towards the village.

About a quarter of an hour later, Prof Malfoy entered the classroom in a pair of distressed muggle jeans and a worn-out Gryffindor jumper that couldn’t have been anyone’s but Potter’s. The entire scene that followed was so incredibly domestic that all the prefects that dared to doubt the state of the Potter-Malfoy’s marriage cowered in shame.

“Hello darling,” Potter cooed as Malfoy handed him a small baby girl dressed in a yellow woollen dress. “How are we feeling today, hm?”

The question was directed to his husband and as Malfoy tickled Lizzy’s tummy he answered with a small smile. “She ate and I changed her before we came here. We played for a while and I think she’s somewhat tired... you might want to put her to sleep soon if you can manage.”

“You know I do,” Harry chuckled and then repeated the sentence over and over while playing with baby’s small hands. The baby giggled and some of the students exchanged hushed comments and excited whispers while the pair was still in their own world.

“You’re going like that?”, Potter asked when he settled Lizzy firmly on his hip so he could slide his fingers tenderly through Malfoy’s hair, cupping his cheek with a look he so often wore when his husband was in question. There was nothing on his face but pure adoration.

“No, I’m gonna change,” Malfoy murmured and leaned in to kiss Potter chastely on the lips. “But it suits me, doesn’t it? The red...”

“You know it does,” Potter laughed and kissed him once more, rocking Lizzy when Malfoy pulled away.

“Potter, I need to go and you have a class to teach,” Malfoy stated firmly and there was a hint of his professional strictness that was often echoing his classroom but there was still the loving look in his eyes that couldn’t be erased no matter what.

“Come by later, yeah?”, Potter asked and Malfoy’s grin widened even more if that was possible.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Love you,” Potter replied and Malfoy just kissed him once more, quickly so it was more of a peck. There were so close when Malfoy muttered the response that only the students in the first row were able to hear it.

“Love you too. Bye now.”

“Goodbye Professor Malfoy!”; Potter called after him and Malfoy rolled his eyes, already walking to the door. Before he stepped out, he turned on his heel and searched the class quickly before his eyes stopped on the blond boy near the far end of the classroom.

“Jeremy, could you please tell the rest of the group that I won’t be able to come to the Alchemy club meeting today?”, he asked with the level of ease that has never been directed at a student. Prof Malfoy had never, in his fifteen years of working in Hogwarts called a student by his first name. Jeremy was quite sure that no one is going to believe him.

“Yes, professor,” he chirped and nodded quickly and Prof Malfoy shot him a smile which was twice as unusual as the name.

“Thanks,” Prof Malfoy said and with that, he left the classroom. A wave of heads turned from the closed door to the front where Prof Potter was now sitting on his desk as he did so often, but instead of his hands being crossed over his chest or leaning back against the table, they were holding a child.

“Okay guys, I know I haven’t really mentioned her before,” Potter started, with a sigh and a small smile, “but this is Elizabeth Potter and she’s my angel. She’s tired so we will have to keep our voices calm and low but I won’t dismiss you – “, several groans rippled through the classroom, “– because we’ve missed enough time as it is with my rambling. Would someone care to remind me where I stopped?”

“You were telling us about the time your Defence professor had a grindylow in a tank in his office, sir,” one of the Slytherin girls replied in a murmur and Potter nodded, going on with the story, gently rocking Lizzy in his arms and pretending as if this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Once the lesson ended, Prof Potter retired to his backroom, leaving the students to whisper in shock and surprise, letting the gossip flow through the castle as it always did. With that, the third cycle was over, and everyone couldn’t wait to see what the new one would bring to the table.


	2. Chapter 2

The legend of the cycles was still spreading through Hogwarts in waves when the first signs of the new period came, but as the generations passed on, it faded more and more until it became this old anecdote shared only at parties when new stories ran out.

July rolled in quicker than anyone anticipated and with their heads full of revision and exam-anxiety, no one thought much about the slight changes in Professor Potter’s appearance. It was the little things like the grey strands of hair that just became visible in Potter’s curls one day, or the deeper lines that ran through his face, more pronounced scar on his forehead, or the abundance of Gryffindor themed items he’d started wearing all of a sudden like the tie or the tee-shirts or the socks.

It went on for a while, and then around two weeks before the end of the school year, one of the sixth years dared to raise his hand in the middle of Potter’s displeased rambling and ask what’s bothering him.

“Well, I suppose nothing’s bothering me, Johnson,” Potter mumbled and turned his back to the class, scribbling the title of today’s lecture on the board. This only caused more worry to ripple through the class because if Prof Potter used the blackboard it meant he was trying to avoid their questions. Even without the cycles, which were now a mere urban legend, Potter always found relief in talking about his personal life with his students despite the fact that it severely annoyed his husband.

“I’m not trying to be rude, professor,” Johnson continued, warily, glancing to his classmates and then back at Potter’s slumped shoulders. “But you seem quite unwell. I think- well, _we_ think it would be beneficial if you shared your troubles – talking about it often helps when it comes to problems –“

“Yeah, yeah,” Potter waved his hand dismissively. “It gives you a new perspective and all that. I’ve heard it all today – did you guys team up to give me shit every lecture today?”

Johnson glanced at his classmates but all of them shrugged and shook their head confused – no one said anything about trying to reach the root of Prof Potter’s strange behaviour and even if they did get any answers, none of them were yet floating through the gossip mill. “No, sir.”

“You sure about that?” Potter turned then with raised eyebrows and an unamused expression. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve been working in this school for nearly twenty years so don’t think I don’t know how you kids are – all curious and starving for new gossip – and whom better to gossip about than your favourite professor?”

A few people chuckled at that but when he sighed and turned around again, the whole classroom went quiet with anticipation, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats just waiting for the reason of Potter’s irritation of the past few weeks to spill from his mouth.

“You’re not getting this one so easily, guys,” He said with a shrug and went on, talking about dementors and the way they could be used more efficiently than in that godforsaken place that is Azkaban.

The time ran away from them and when the last weekend before the end rolled around and no one knew the answer to this cycle’s question, a tense silence spread through the Hogwarts body. Countless theories have emerged but all of them were shot down, proven ridiculous or impossible or just plain stupid.

On the last Sunday, Potter got several knocks on his door from curious students who wanted to ‘thank him’ for being such a good teacher. It was their small talk and their apparently subtle questions that terribly amused him so he indulged every single person that showed up at his door. However, when morning came and students shuffled towards Hogwarts Express, everyone was just as clueless as they had been before.

The summer passed and some people forgot all about the dilemma they’d had before they’d returned home. Others kept it settled in the back of their minds, wishing they had the answer and wondering if they ever will. And the third-party spent the entire holidays theorising and trying to figure out what was going on.

That third group consisted mostly of younger students who hadn’t truly expected anything about the cycles to be real but now found themselves intrigued by the way Prof Potter kept his secrets. And while discussing your professors’ private lives was not the best cause for meetings and hang-outs, it was a cause either way and the members of that summer’s Potter’s secret Secret Club still swear that their friendship will forever stay alive due to their shared shenanigans.

When September came back and the castle once again bloomed in light and colour, the buzz of the problem spread once more, quicker than ever before so it wasn’t at all surprising that by the time everyone settled for the opening feast, it was the main topic of conversation. Everyone’s gazes were neatly settled on the professors’ table where Prof Potter and Prof Malfoy discussed something in a very heated manner.

Some of the students suggested once more that maybe the secret truly was that they had marital problems but then, about ten minutes before the first-year students were led into the Great Hall, Potter’s face softened at something Malfoy had said and they’d murmured something gentle to each other which resulted in a series of chaste kisses being exchanged despite all of the students watching.

The creak of the doors drew everyone’s attention and as Potter and Malfoy straightened their back, focusing on nothing but the group of small children that walked towards their table, everyone else moved their eyes to the situation at hand as well.

Minutes ticked on, the Hat sang its song, students got sorted and everyone was growing impatient, their eyes wandering around the hall, most of them sticking to the tense forms of their two professors at the highest table. Potter’s and Malfoy’s eyes were fixed to the middle of the group and they were barely moving at all, except for blinking and breathing.

And then, finally, finally, after months of pondering and questioning and frustration, it all became clear.

“Potter, Elizabeth,” McGonagall’s clear voice carried through the Hall and dozens of gasps and sighs joined in. Potter glanced quickly at his husband who wore a proud but nervous grin and then his eyes found the grinning, black-haired girl that was nearly trembling from the excitement on the stool. The whole Hall held its breath, no time for bets or theories now when they were seconds from finding out which house would get to have the Saviour’s child.

The Hat took its time and the anticipation grew, along with the slight note of nervousness. After three and a half minutes of tense silence, Elizabeth gave the Hall a toothy smile and the Hat pronounced, loud and clear: “Ravenclaw!”

No one spoke and the only sound was the loud cheering from the eagles’ table as Lizzy ran to find her place. Students ignored the person who came up to the stool next and the one after them, the focus now completely on reactions of Elizabeth’s parents.

And they were stunned. Potter and Malfoy were completely still as their eyes stayed on their laughing daughter already making friends. She looked up too and waved with a slightly uncertain smile that grew proud and loving when her dads waved back.

Potter murmured something to his husbands then and Malfoy shook his head with a chuckle before Potter laid his head against Malfoy’s shoulder, forehead first, and laughed silently, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

That was the fourth cycle and after the initial shock of their resurface, the student body came more accustomed to the whole ordeal. It was safe to say that when the next cycle began soon after they were prepared to analyse Potter’s every move.

Some argued that the cycle began as soon as the previous one ended, with Potter’s office and classroom steadily being filled with Ravenclaw themed nick-nacks and his daily mutterings always being ended with: “Well, Ravenclaw isn’t so bad after all, is it?”

Some of the students took it upon themselves to convince Prof Potter that there was not a house better than Ravenclaw and the lengths they went to – from Ravenclaw propaganda slipped into their assignments, to full of presentations on Ravenclaw glory – would always be remembered as one of the more ridiculous periods in Hogwarts’ history.

The story really started heating up, however, a year after the end of the fourth cycle, with the beginning of Elizabeth’s second year in the school. Prof Potter came to class in muggle clothing, his head adorned with bed hair and followed by two curious figures who were trying to pull him into two separate discussions at the same time. It didn’t seem like the professor even remembered he had a class, much less noticed his students gaping at the trio that’d just entered.

“Oliver, I told you already,” Potter sighed and pulled at a string that was sticking out from some misshapen bundle of cloth in his hands. “You can’t sleep in my office. Ask McGonagall to give you a room...”

“I can’t ask McGonagall to give me a room!”, the couch of Holyhead Harpies, Oliver Wood groaned with a roll of his eyes. It was clear it wasn’t the first time he’d said that sentence. Potter ignored him and leaned into the blonde girl on his left.

“Am I doing this right?” He pushed his wand into the middle of whatever he was trying to make and his friend laughed and shook her head in desperation.

“You’re a lost cause, Harry.” She snatched the bundle from him and turned on her heal. “I’m gonna go and finish this at Draco’s – it’s far nicer in there than in this dusty room.”

“Luna, please don’t!” Potter caught her wrist and for a moment his students thought he might kneel in front of her and beg; a few snickers travelled the classroom. “He’ll never let this go and I will have to live with his mockery for the end of my days!”

“So, what?” Oliver chuckled. “Sounds like your usual life.”

Potter glared at him and then at his students who dared to laugh at his misery. Luna winked at him and waved him goodbye before leaving, which left Potter with Wood’s whining. They stared at each other.

“You’re not sleeping in my office.”

“Just until the try-outs finish and then I’ll go,” Wood lifted his arms in surrender and put on a puppy face that looked more like a grimace since he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“No, Oliver,” Potter stated once more and turned to his desk, walking to it and then shuffling through the papers, trying to find his lesson plan. “Elizabeth’s there nearly every evening and I’m not having her there while you’re walking around in nothing but your pyjama bottoms.”

“She saw me in my pyjama bottoms already when she came to sleep over!”

“Yes, and it was traumatising!”

Wood glared at him and then his shoulders slumped. “Fine, have it your way. But I’m not leaving your side until you let me have it my way. And I bet you remember my powers of persuasion.”

Potter rolled his eyes and turned away from him, once again focusing on his papers but when he couldn’t find what he was looking for even after minutes of search he sighed and turned to the class. “Mary, what are we supposed to do to today?”

“Ghouls, sir,” Mary chirped and Wood groaned.

“I should’ve guessed you’d be the boring one,” he muttered and took off towards the door.

“It’s on their curriculum!”

“Yeah, yeah... I’m going to Draco’s.”

“He has classes too,” Potter called after his friend but the doors were already closed and he was pinned with thirty curious eyes. He stared back at them and then Anthony from the back row lifted his hand in the air. Potter motioned for him to speak.

“Excuse me for asking, sir, but what in Merlin’s name was that about?”

“Not about ghouls,” the professor replied and the subject was dropped in favour of learning theory.

A week passed with nothing but Potter ignoring the subject and Oliver Wood appearing in his lessons every once in a while. Then, on a Monday just after the schedule of that season’s Quidditch matches was posted in every common room, Potter entered the class both beaming with joy and glaring with threat.

“In any of you dare to come to the game in anything but blue, I will fail the whole class,” he informed them and held the door for Luna who was carrying a big box in front of her.

She settled in a conjured armchair next to his desk and pulled out the familiar bundle of cloth from a week ago that now finally resembled a hat with an eagle on it. She got some dark blue string and began pinning it to the hat. “You’re spending too much time with Draco, Harry,” she said in the middle of his lecture. “You’re picking up Professor-Malfoy-grumpiness.”

The class chuckled at that and when Potter tried to quiet them down with a warning glare, the laughter only grew. Behind the laughter, however, was an ever-growing excitement because despite Potter’s anxiousness, Elizabeth Potter, daughter of two of the best Seekers in the history of school, couched by Oliver Wood since she first learned to say the word broom and raised high by weekly Quidditch games with her cousins from the Weasley family, was just made Ravenclaw’s Seeker. And her performance was nothing if not highly anticipated.

The day before the game, Potter was visibly tense, shaking with anxiety for his little girl, rambling on and on how now she would be playing with her friends and they would lose a player in their weekly games and now they were bound to lose from the Weasleys when they began playing again. He rambled also how much he missed Quidditch and how little time he would have for it and even less opportunity since Lizzy wouldn’t bug him to train her every afternoon.

“I suggested founding the professor’s league and maybe we could form a team, play against other wizarding schools and institutes,” he said with a shrug and tug to his greying hair. “But Draco laughed in my face – that bastard – and said that if I wanted an amateur league, I should’ve joined the Aurors. Which is ridiculous! Both because Ron said that the team is absolutely dreadful and also because if I didn’t become a teacher then how would I get together with the love of my life?”

Some girls awed at that and when the door opened a couple of people snickered and murmured, “Speaking of the devil...”

Elizabeth came marching through, straight to her dad’s desk and set on top of it, right next to him. Her other dad followed her gracefully as ever. “What are you teaching these poor children, dear?”

“He’s teaching us how to ramble for fifteen minutes without taking a breath,” one of the Gryffindor boys called from Malfoy’s left and that made him smirk.

“Tsk, tsk, and to think you’re their favourite professor...”

“Being their favourite doesn’t necessarily mean I’m the most competent,” Potter just shrugged and Malfoy grinned at him and came closer to kiss him hello. A small peck, and then two and then three before Elizabeth gently shoved Prof Malfoy away.

“You two are gross,” she told them with a chuckle and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see you in three years,” he muttered.

“Draco!” Potter gasped and shoved him too.

“Haaarry!”, Prof Malfoy whined and then walked around the desk to sit in Potter’s chair. Everyone and their mother knew that it was Malfoy who bought it for him just so he wouldn’t break his spine on some uncomfortable thing Potter selected.

Potter’s eyes stayed glued on his husband for a moment or two, the two of them sharing some silent conversation before Malfoy snorted and Potter turned his attention to their daughter. He pulled her closer and kissed his forehead at which she pretended to gag and shoved him away.

“Don’t you have classes, Lizzy-Pizzy?” he asked her.

“Dad! I’m twelve! I told you not to call me that!” She was fuming and it was adorable enough not to ever stop him for calling her by her childhood nickname.

“Aw, don’t be rude to your dad, Lizzy-Pizzy!”, that Gryffindor from before said and she glared at him.

“Shut the hell up, Riggs or I will cut out your tongue and boil it with your eyeballs!”

“Language,” Potter whispered just as Malfoy snickered with, “That’s my kid.”

Riggs fell silent and Potter raised his eyebrow at his daughter, still expecting his answer.

“I had a day off because the game’s tomorrow,” she explained quickly. “Didn’t you used to be a Seeker too? Didn’t you have days off?”

“Oh yeah, we did,” Potter nodded quickly. “I just forgot about it.”

“You’re growing senile, dear,” Malfoy murmured but Potter still heard him.

“Shut up, darling”, he called back and Elizabeth frowned at him.

“You’ll hurt papa’s feelings with language like that.”

“Want me to apologise?”, Potter asked, tilting his head.

“No, Merlin, not here! Apologise to him later but I don’t think anyone in this room wants to witness that!” Elizabeth looked mortified and Potter pulled her into a hug which she quickly wiggled from. He caught his husband’s eyes and mouthed a sweet ‘I love you’ and got one in return.

“So,” he said, once more turning to his class. “Where did we stop?”

“Are you going to ignore your family, professor Potter?”, Malfoy asked.

“You’re here to bother me. That doesn’t mean I need to let you. Where did we stop?”

“You were telling us about your professors’ league, sir,” Riggs said, having finally found his voice again. Potter grinned at professor Malfoy and then at Elizabeth next to him before continuing his story, letting himself forget all about the next creature they had to learn about that day.

The next day, when professors Potter and Malfoy took their seats, they were pleased to see that the only yellow block of students was one of the actual Hufflepuffs. Turns out that even though everyone doubted Potter would actually fail them if they didn’t show up in Ravenclaw colours, no one wanted to take any risks since he was married to Malfoy after all and who knew what awful thing his husband might persuade him to do.

The game was quick and tense, both teams scoring every other minute and it was clear that the snitch would be a crucial factor. It ended abruptly, in the middle of a chase between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw players when Elizabeth did a triple flip in the air – nearly causing her dads a heart attack each – and put her hands high in the air, the barely visible golden wings fluttering out of her grip. Ravenclaw won and Elizabeth was carried to the locker rooms, victorious and proud, followed by cheering of her peers and her parents.

After the fifth cycle ended, leaving Ravenclaw with the Quidditch cup that year, things settled once again and for a while, everyone was convinced the cycles were going to disappear once again.

There were small instances where the possibilities for a cycle were higher – like that time Elizabeth wanted to start her own duelling club, or the time their dog Albus ‘disappeared’ only to be discovered that he was smuggled into Lizzy’s dorm – but it seemed like the Potter-Malfoys had found peace again and now had no problems bigger than an occasional domestic quarrel or the constant, smitten bickering that filled the space whenever the professors found themselves in a shouting distance.

A couple of years later, in the middle of Elizabeth’s fifth year, just around Christmas time, a handful of students walked in on the golden daughter snogging a Slytherin sixth year boy in the back of the Restricted section. The boy’s name was Sebastian Grant and his reputation as the Hogwarts’ heartbreaker was one of the flashiest of the generation.

The next day in classes, everyone was on the edge, waiting for Prof Potter to start rambling and whining about his daughter’s poor choice. There were even bets on how many times he would say things like ‘ my little girl’, ‘that Slytherin bastard’ and ‘she’s basically ten’.

To everyone’s shock, however, Potter talked about Albus’ newest adventures and the debate he had with Prof Malfoy about the new curtains they wanted to buy for their dining room. By the end of the day, it was crystal clear – Potter had no idea about Elizabeth’s love life.

The sixth cycle began without Potter’s knowledge and the entire gossip mill’s attention shifted from the DADA professor to the Potions one because after three days of Malfoy’s unusual irritability and around 50 points taken from poor Slytherin students who did nothing wrong but found themselves in the wrong house at the wrong time, another thing was certain as well – even though Potter knew next to nothing about Grant and library snogging session, Malfoy was as informed as he could be.

A week and a half later, Potter stopped in the middle of his lecture and leaned on his desk as he usually did when a disappointed or suspicious lecture was about to follow. “Okay, spill it,” he prompted. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, why haven’t any of you buggers asked me a single thing about my personal life for more than a week now?” There was desperation in his tone but none of his students would meet his eyes.

“We don’t mean to pry, sir,” mumbled Lucy, a Slytherin from the third row.

“It’s your private life for a reason – you don’t know our business so it wouldn’t be fair for us to know yours,” Madeline, the girl next to her added and several of their friends nodded.

“You don’t mean to pry?” Potter’s eyebrows listed so high they were in danger of meeting his hairline. “You guys are worse than the Daily Prophet! So come on! What’s happening? Is it Elizabeth?”

Students exchanged glances all over the room and a deep sigh escaped the professor’s mouth. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before asking, “What did she do now?”

“We think you should ask Elizabeth, sir,” Madeline said and with a roll of his eyes, Potter resumed the lecture.

When none of the Potter-Malfoys appeared at dinner, everyone knew that Potter found out.

The first DADA lesson of the day after was in the third period, and the seventh year Gryffindors were in for a treat. They didn’t expect a lesson but they didn’t expect the rage that burned bright all around Potter when he came in either.

“I need you guys to break them up,” he said, his voice calm and firm.

“But sir – “

“No! I don’t want to hear a word. I want – no, I _need_ that little slug away from my girl. You guys are going to help me achieve it.”

He was met with blank, slightly concerned stares and when no one said anything, and the silence stretched on, he walked closer to the desks and stood in the middle of the classroom, his eyes focused on the window and the grounds outside, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his mouth set in a deep scowl.

“Peter,” he called without looking at the boy sitting behind him.

“Yes, sir?”

“You know my Lizzy, right?”

“We, um, we sometimes study together but that’s all,” Peter stammered, unsure of his purpose.

“Good enough,” Potter murmured and continued. “I need you to tell her that she must break up with that boy.”

“Sir, I don’t think –“

“I’ll fail you if you don’t do it, Peter.” Potter threatened and turned to meet an uncertain look Peter was giving him. “You don’t believe me? I’ll fail all of you if she’s still caught snogging Grant by the end of this week.”

A few people lowered their heads to avoid Potter’s gaze but the majority sat motionless, not nervous at the slightest.

“I killed the most infamous wizard of our time,” Potter said through gritted teeth. “If you think I can’t fail a generation of kids for the sake of my daughter, you’re dead wrong.”

“It’s her life and none of us can tell her how to live it, sir,” Peter told his professor.

“But she cares for her friends, Peter and I know my Elizabeth – if you tell her I’ll fail all of you if she doesn’t leave Grant, she will leave Grant.”

More tense silence followed and then someone from Potter’s left murmured, “You’ve never failed anyone in your life, sir.”

“Then tell her Draco’s gonna fail you,” Potter huffed and waved his hand in an annoyed manner.

“But sir –“

“What?”

“Professor Malfoy knew about Grant for over a week before you found out and he did nothing that resembles your ideas and I don’t think that Liz will believe it.” Peter scratched the back of his neck, apologetically meeting Potter’s eyes.

Potter stared at him for a long moment before his shoulders slumped and he leaned back against his desk, defeated. “What should I do, guys?” His tone was back to its usual, friendly self and everyone visibly relaxed. Frank from the first row raised his hand and everyone’s focus shifted to him.

“Yes, Frank?” Potter nodded at him to speak.

“Sir, I think you should let her be. I know it sounds like a bad idea but she’s nearly sixteen and weren’t you sixteen? With love trouble? With love disasters?” Frank stopped to allow Prof Potter to grunt in affirmation. “Grant is a pompous brat and Liz is a smart girl – there is no way she isn’t aware of how he is. She’ll end it sooner or later.”

“You sure about that?” Potter tilted his head. “Draco was a pompous brat and I ended up marrying him.”

“And do you think that was a mistake?” Anna that sat next to Peter asked.

“If it was, it was the best mistake of my life,” Potter chuckled and he turned his head to the window, that star-struck, smitten expression taking over his face as it usually did when his husband became the topic of discussion. “But Grant is nothing like Draco.”

“Of course he isn’t,” Peter said. “Grant is a child. And Liz is too. Hell, all of us are kids. And kids do stupid shit they regret a week later and then laugh about twenty years after they’ve done it.”

“So you think I should just let it go?”

“Well,” Frank started again, with a glance to Peter and Anna and the rest of the class. “We think you shouldn’t try to force her to leave Grant because she will stay with him out of spite and that never ends well.”

“And we promise you,” Anna added, “we’ll tell you if that bastard does anything bad to her and _then_ you can go and kill him.”

“Although, to be honest,” Peter spoke once more, “if the thought of hurting her even dared to cross his mind, Liz will probably throw him through the window herself.”

Chuckles spread through the classroom and even Potter allowed himself a smirk. “Thanks, guys. You really know how to calm an old man down.”

“You’re always welcome, sir,” Frank grinned and the rest of the class nodded in agreement. It was clear from Potter’s face and his posture that a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He might not have forgiven Grant for ever coming near his daughter, but his stress levels definitely became lower.

They talked about everything and nothing for the remaining fifteen minutes of class – about Albus and the curtains that Potter was yet to buy, about Frank’s parrot and the lemon three Anna was trying to grow back home in her room.

Two days later, Grant found himself in the hospital wing with a broken arm and wounded pride. Elizabeth walked smiling down the hallways to her dad’s office and through the creaked door the passing students could hear her promise that she’ll never get married if all the guys are jerks like her now-ex-boyfriend.

That day at dinner Malfoy was smirking at his husband who didn’t even try to hide his joy over the turn of the events.

The sixth cycle was over.


End file.
